


Phantom Wings

by then00breturns1101



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda?, Whump, Winky Face, fun fact the pain can be related to how the limb was lost, i came up with this idea and it would not leave until i wrote it, i did some research on phantom pains for this, implied past proveles, just ouch, not tagging it bc it's not really present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 18:52:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/then00breturns1101/pseuds/then00breturns1101
Summary: Mephistopheles did not leave Heaven without repercussions.





	Phantom Wings

**Author's Note:**

> hey guess who's fucking psyched for w2h2 and also upset at the lack of mephistopheles content? tis i  
> so i will write the fic i wish to see in the world

Mephistopheles couldn’t remember the last time he slept. Not that he had a concept of time, but he  _did_  have a concept of exhaustion, and it was getting very, very difficult to keep his eyes open to focus on the paperwork.

So.

Much.

Paperwork.

Why the ever-loving  _fuck_  did he design Hell this way? It was a completely convoluted, tangled mess of a system to deal with damned souls, but because it was so precariously balanced, it would take dismantling  _everything_  to improve it.

Which was exactly why his workload was unimaginably high, as this was exactly what he was trying to do.

If he weren’t an immortal being, the stress alone would’ve killed him. A “heart attack,” or whatever tended to happen to humans, and then he’d be relieved.

But no.

He was stuck here, the only one actually suffering in this place.

 

Maybe he shouldn’t have made Hell. No, this place was necessary in keeping balance— it benefitted Providence, too, even if She might not like to admit it.

But he  _really_  should’ve thought in the long term when he made the rules to this place. There were a bunch of people who didn’t even belong here, just because of a rule he first made— “Any human who kills a human for other than self-defense goes to Hell.”

Except, of course, there was a teensy little problem in that he hasn’t specified a  _separate_  human, and now there were a bunch of suicide victims who had no business being in this place.

But because he had a quota, he had to keep the system of demons going, until the whole thing was revamped and he could send the victims up to Heaven, but for now he was just amassing a whole lot of them even faster because there was no other way to get employees.

What a shitshow he had put himself in.

...He looked down and saw that his hand had moved off the paper and he’d started writing on the desk.

Great.

 

As Mephistopheles busied himself cleaning up the ink, there was a knock on the door. He willed it to open and in walked none other than his favorite employee and demonary, Sock.

“Hey boss!” he chirped, floating in. “It’s a day off, and Jonathan’s been ignoring me, so I just wanted to hang out around here. Is that okay?”

“Uh, sure, kid. Just don’t knock anything more over than it already is,” Mephistopheles said absently, still busy cleaning up the papers. Sock looked around.

“Wow, it  _is_  a mess in here. How do you manage all this?”

 _I don’t_. “Trade secret,” he chuckled with a wink. “Comes with being an immortal being.”

“That must be pretty useful. But also reeeeaally boring,” Sock whined. “I mean, you could have a bunch of powers, but you get  _paperwork powers._  You could’ve gotten something cool, like laser eyes, or wings!”

At that, memories stirred within Mephistopheles and he felt a faint burning sensation a couple feet away from his back.

_Shit._

_Okay, maybe it’ll pass. Maybe it’ll just be a little one this time._

_..._

_....oh it’s not passing it’s not passing—_

Trying to hide the growing expression of pain and discomfort on his face, he hurriedly ushered Sock out as the burning spread.

“Ooookay it was great having ya Sock but I need to work on this on my own now bye—!" He clicked the door shut just as his voice gave out into a quiet whimper.

Oh, it was a bad episode alright.

He curled up on the ground, willing himself to stay quiet, and waited for the burning to pass.

 

Mephistopheles didn’t have a concept of time, but he did have a concept of pain, and it had lasted longer this time than last time. He stood up, hands shaking and eyes watering, and sat back down at his desk, getting back to work as if nothing had happened.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time it happened, he didn’t have the luxury of a gradual build. A lot of time had probably elapsed. Or maybe a little. But it must’ve been at least a “week,” since Sock came in on his day off again.

“Hi boss!” he greeted enthusiastically. Mephistopheles sighed.

“Kid, I told you, Mephistopheles is fine."

“Yeah, but that’s  _five_  syllables. Don’t you have a nickname or something?” Sock lamented, floating above the desk. Mephistopheles shrugged.

“Eh, not really. Never had a use for one.”

“Oh, I’ll make you one!” Sock floated down, tapping his chin and thinking.

“Hmm, let’s see... Stopheles!”

“That’s still a lot of syllables, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. What about just ‘Les?”

“No.”

“Meph?”

“Nah.”

“Mephy?”

A sudden memory of warmth, soft sheets, and arms wrapped around him caught him off guard. He winced.

“Absolutely not.”

“Uh.... there’s not much left... Stoph?”

Mephistopheles sighed and shrugged.

“Sure, Stoph works. Knock yourself out with it.”

“Okay, Stoph!” Sock grinned, evidently pleased with himself. “Sooooo, still doing paperwork?”

Stoph nodded, switching to another paper and putting the completed one in a tray.

“I’m a little busy.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You’re not on the job, kid.”

“I just like being helpful.”

Mephistopheles raised a  _very_  doubtful eyebrow, but Sock seemed... genuine? It was hard to tell with the kid. He decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Alright. Just don’t touch anything with red ink on it, and be careful.”

Sock lit up, eagerly putting away folders and clearing out workspaces. Mephistopheles couldn’t help but smile. He had to admit he had a soft spot for him.

As he was focused on the papers again, Sock bumped into his chair from behind.

“Whoops, sorry!”

“It’s f—“ without warning, the breath was knocked out of his words as the jostling of his back triggered a sudden,  _searing_  pain. “— _fffffuck_."

Sock turned around, alarmed. His boss was suddenly hunched over the desk, eyes screwed shut and face set in a tight grimace, clutching his pen so hard it might break.

“Stoph? A-are you okay??”

He wheezed, voice thin. “Yep, just... peachy,” he chuckled. “If you could, uh, go for a while, that’d be  _great_.”

“What’s going on, what happened? Are you hurt?” He floated closer, and Mephistopheles shifted away, gulping down air.

“I’m... fine, kid.” He clearly was not. “Look, I... I’ll explain later. Just go, and I’ll... call you back when it’s done, ‘kay?”

Sock nodded anxiously and floated out, and Mephistopheles finally stopped holding back, heaving a quiet sob.

Great. Not  _only_  was he in unimaginable pain, but now he had to come up with an explanation for Sock without it revealing too much.

What a good way to be spending eternity.

 

When it finally ebbed away, Mephistopheles was left drained and trembling. He wiped some sweat from his brow before willing the door open. Sock rushed in.

“What happened? D-did you get hurt?”

“Told you kid, I’m  _fine_.” His weak voice said otherwise. “It’s nothing. I’m not hurt.”

“Um?!” Sock laughed incredulously, “Yes you are! You got hurt so bad you couldn’t even  _move_!”

“It wasn’t an injury is what I’m saying,” Mephistopheles clarified. “Just... phantom pains.”

“Oh, like when you lose an arm?” He nodded. “But you’re not missing any limbs...”

Mephistopheles sighed. “Wings, kid,” he muttered. “I used to have wings.”

Sock’s face lit up with understanding. “Ohhhh... how’d you lose them?”

“They burned.” Not technically a lie. “I got too close to the Hellfire pits and you can guess what happened.”  _That_  part was a lie.

“Yikes,” winced Sock. “Yeah, that... can’t be pleasant...”

“Mhm.”

A tense silence passed. Sock looked around.

“So... if this happens again, should I... go?” Mephistopheles nodded.

“Yeah. I’d... rather nobody sees me like this. Kinda ruins my image,” he laughed, but his face then turned serious. “Don’t tell anyone, got it?”

Sock nodded, still worried.

“How... often does it happen?”

Mephistopheles laughed again. “Kid, I told you, I got no concept of time. All I know is that it happens. It sucks, but it happens, and then it stops and the whole thing repeats itself. If it’s on a schedule, I’m unaware of it.”

“Right, yeah...” Sock fidgeted with his scarf awkwardly. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Just don’t tell  _anyone_. Not even Jonathan can know about this. Scratch that,  _especially_  not him.”

Sock nodded, and Mephistopheles smiled.

“Thanks. Now go enjoy your day off, alright?”

“Okay. Be careful!” He waved and walked out, putting on a smile. Stoph sighed, laying his head on his desk.

Phantom pains were decidedly one of the  _worst_  parts about being down here.

**Author's Note:**

> if it wasn't clear, mephistopheles' wings burned off when he fell from heaven, which is why the phantom pain manifests itself as a burning sensation. ouch.


End file.
